1000 Days at the Chateau chapter 5
by Jacqueline Boutade
Summary: The Marquis' friends arrive for a month of hunting and friendship. They convince Guy to play cards for the pleasure of a day or night with Valentine. Reluctantly he agrees. After all, as young men they used to share everything and Valentine is only his mistress. If she pleases his friends will he let her go to the ball?


One Thousand Days- Chapter 5 – Visitors

Within the week letters were dispatched across Europe. Answers came presently, all three friends confirming their pleasure and delight at the invitation, agreeing to rendezvous at the Chateau de Chatillon at the end of August, which gave the dowager six weeks to prepare entertainments, rooms, horses and the menus for the month the men and their retinues would be staying. The visit caused great excitement amongst the staff: the young girls aflutter at the thought of an array of handsome men to admire and flirt with. The men were looking forward to displays of swordsmanship as both Prince Alexei and Pierre were considered two of the finest duellers in Europe. The hunting would provide sport for many and they expected the left over bounty to fall to their table.

Guy was uncertain about Valentine's duties or role during the visit. Would she meet his friends, would she be part of the festivities planned for all the estate workers, would she attend the ball planned for his friends and local dignitaries of the region? He was not sure what to do with her. She was doing her best not to question him but he could feel her desire to know, to be involved in the event with every movement of her body, with every glance from her eyes. For the first time since he bound her to him he was aware of the gap in their status, in the greyness of their relationship. For all she had learnt her lessons well, and in many ways she was being prepared to cope in his world without disgracing herself or him, she was just a peasant girl and he was not sure if he wanted her on his arm even though she would not shame him, even though to flaunt one's mistress was one's right, even though she would be the most beautiful woman there. Perhaps he was ashamed of taking up his ancient right, by not having bothered to do the honourable thing and remarry, producing the much desired heir? Perhaps he did not want his friends to know he was as bad as them in their desires for a woman to warm their beds?

He did not think he was ashamed of Valentine. He looked at her and did not see a peasant girl, poor and malnourished, dirty and uncivilised. He saw a young woman of poise and dignity. A woman, whom he was sure loved him. A woman he wanted not just for his contractual period but forever, quietly, privately enjoying her in all ways, not just in the act of love. Was that it, did he not want to share her with anyone? Did he want to keep her all to himself, not just for now but forever?

He pulled himself together. His mother had been right, there was more to life than the small circle he had made for himself. He needed to be a man of the world again and a man of the world did not agonise over his mistress, he commanded her, she obeyed. If she wanted to go to the ball or meet his friends she would have to remind him of her worth.

'Come here,' he said. Obediently she rose from her seat where she was pretending to embroider a scene resembling the dowager's garden (Valentine thought she might present it as a gift to the marquise, if it was good enough) and stood by him. 'Kiss me.' She obeyed, letting his hands squeeze her breasts tight, almost pushing them from the constraints of her satin bodice. 'Bend over,' he said, pulling up her petticoats to reveal her naked arse. He slapped her round bottom and eased his finger along her pudendum to her vagina, pushed a little into her sweet wetness and then tugged on the golden ring. 'Remember,' he said. 'You are mine. You will do as I command.' She stood up straight as he removed his hand, letting her dress fall across her nakedness. 'Now you must leave me. I am tired.' He saw her face fall, knew she had been expecting to stay with him, that his little sex play was just an overture, not a deceitful tease. She nodded in deference, knowing better than to object or entreat: he did not like that.

After she had gone, he sucked his fingers and regretted his decision.

Valentine watched excitedly as the visitors arrived one after the other on the same afternoon. It seemed a miracle of timing and it was such a spectacle to see the carriages and their handsome horses promenade down the avenue. She sat at the window-seat above the entrance where she had once watched Guy depart before she knew she loved him. Sophie stood behind absently braiding Valentine's hair so she could watch and not be ordered to do something by Mathilde.

First Prince Alexei Polonowski arrived. 'I think he's Russian,' Sophie whispered. 'Isn't he tall and so well dressed.'

'Look at his hat!' Valentine exclaimed.

'Even his servants are handsome,' Sophie noted.

'You will have to behave, Sophie, otherwise Mathilde will not allow you to attend the servants' ball.'

'What will you wear?' The ball would be on the last night of the visit but it was the main topic of conversation amongst the staff.

Valentine shrugged. She did not yet know if Guy would allow her to attend, although she had been more obedient and demur than usual and had not pressed him further on anything about the visit, not even asked for stories about his friends. She so wanted to go to the ball, to dance with someone other than Monsieur Artois, to wear her finest dress, to be admired. It seemed too unfair to be given so many beautiful things to wear to not be able to show them off to more than the marquis.

'I'm sure he'll let you go,' Sophie said kindly. 'I think he's jealous, he doesn't want others to even look at you, let alone dance with you.'

Valentine grabbed her hand and squeezed it. 'Do you think so, Sophie? I desperately want to go.'

'Look,' said Sophie, 'It is the Duke of Burgundy. He is far more handsome than the prince. Look at those dark curls sitting on his white collar. Oh my, I hope I get to serve him.'

'So which should you marry, a prince or a duke?'

Both girls laughed at the silliness of the question as the final carriage bearing the Duke of Bourbonne arrived. The men stood on the forecourt shouting greetings to each other, hugging and declaiming loudly to the marquis what a fine place he had, what a fine day it was and what a fine time they expected to have. The marquis led them into his impressive entrance hall where their voices boomed upwards and the air was full of masculine laughter, echoing and rebounding in the vast glittering cavern of a space.

'We are in for a fine time,' Sophie said, taking a peek below at the assembled aristocracy, resplendent in their silks and satins, hardly fatigued by their long journeys.

Valentine was left alone for a week. She continued with her lessons and lingered over gossip with Monsieur Artois about events around the chateau. Her riding lessons were cancelled as Rene was far too busy preparing horses for the visitors' daily rides and preparing mounts for the grand hunt in the final week. The marquis rode out early every day and was absent from his rooms for most of the day. Whatever business that he usually diligently attended to was left to others or ignored altogether as he spent hours with his friends. There were no notes explaining her duties for the evening, there was not once the sound of the key in their adjoining door.

She did her best to put on a brave face and concentrated hard on her books, staying in the library long after Monsieur Artois had retired, declining his kind offers to stroll the grounds, to see if they could spy upon the festivities occurring around the chateau.

During the second week of the visit the marquis summonsed Valentine to his study. He sat at his desk attending to his papers while she stood for what seemed like ages, perfectly still, perfectly quiet as he preferred.

'My friends wish to meet you. They have observed you taking your exercise in the gardens and find you pleasing. To further enhance their enjoyment of their visit I have agreed to them spending time alone with you.' He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze steady in his steely command. 'They are to do as they wish. You will do as they command.'

She flinched slightly but he still saw it.

'I wish it to be so. Do you understand, Valentine? I expect you to please my friends.'

She nodded.

He looked her coolly up and down appraising her as he had that first meeting so many months ago. 'You do want to go to the ball, don't you?'

She nodded. The cold feeling of fear from the early days at the chateau that she had thought was banished forever was now rising in her throat. She struggled for composure, trying to read his face, which seemed suddenly as a stranger's. What were these friends like to create such a change in him?

'Then you will do as I command.'

The marquis's noble friends decided to play cards for the pleasure of Valentine's company. Alexei claimed it would add an element of surprise, of sport to the endeavour. 'We can play for a week,' he declared. 'Whoever wins can have your girl for the next day and then we play again and so on until the week is up.'

'Surely you can just take turns?' said Guy. 'I have agreed you may play with her.'

'No, this is so much more fun,' agreed Pierre. 'This way we might get more than one turn.'

'Or none at all,' said Frederick.

'It will sharpen our wits and improve our game. It's always better to play for worthwhile stakes,' said Alexei. 'This way you get a chance too, my friend. Don't you want to play for her, or isn't she worth it?'

Guy shrugged; Alexei always managed to make him feel stupid. In the years of absence he had forgotten that unfortunate character trait of his friend.

'Drink up,' Alexei demanded. 'We came for fun. Let's be having it.'

Guy had never been a great card player and he found himself more distracted than usual. His friends meant a great deal to him; they had been at court for many years as young boys, been soldiers together; womanised and caroused together in dark and shameful places across Europe. Alexei, Pierre and Frederick were closer to him than Gerard had ever been. But Valentine meant a great deal to him too. How could he reconcile his heart? He could not deny his friends; it was the sort of thing they used to do years ago, often enjoying a woman together. And it wasn't as if she was his wife: no-one would suggest such a thing of a wife. It was unthinkable. But a mistress was for pleasure, and who said she was only for your pleasure?

Valentine's first invitation came from Frederick, Duke of Bourbonne. Valentine was to be ready to receive him in her rooms after supper and be attired in her favourite evening wear, the sort she wore for the marquis. Her hands shook as she opened the note, hoping it would be from Guy, but she had agreed, she had promised she would obey.

Mathilde and Sophie were dispatched to help her prepare, a long bath with rose petal oils. Sophie was to bring champagne and freshen the bedding. Mathilde would braid her hair and prepare her clothing.

Mathilde struggled to find the words to sooth Valentine. 'It's just some fun, my dear. Boys at play. No harm will come of it.'

'No,' agreed Sophie. 'They are aristocrats after all. Noble men, Valentine, nothing to worry your heart over.'

Valentine tried to smile. 'But if he loved me...'

Mathilde shook her head. 'Best not to speak such words, my dear. Remember, you are the mistress, not the wife.'

Valentine was as nervous as she'd ever been during her first meetings with the marquis. She could not think of him as Guy any more, but as some impersonal creature, some man with a title, not a man with a name.

Promptly at 9 pm came a sharp knock upon her door. Frederick was handsomely dressed in tones of burgundy, smelling of spice and the forest. He was grinning broadly, handing her a rose. 'I believe you like flowers,' he bowed. 'I like scarves,' he winked, producing four long silk scarves of the most intricate and beautiful colours, like rain had run across a water-colour. 'They are from Venice. Do you admire them?' He twirled them through the air and let the light from the fire and candles flicker in their gossamer fineness. 'Please me and they will be yours.'

Valentine smiled at the duke. He was similar in age to the marquis and his features were open, his face a little broader and coarser than the marquis. His hair was rich brown and thick upon his head, sitting atop his collar and silk tie. His eyes were brown too and sparkled with mischief. He was of similar height to the marquis but heavier, stronger in build. She was not sure she liked him, but he certainly liked her. He poured the champagne and toasted their evening together. She wondered what he wanted, if she could comply, if she could please him.

They drank one glass of champagne together, while she listened to him describe his day; his successes on the hunt, his love of riding, of the outdoors. 'I had not realised how rich my friend had become,' Frederick winked at Valentine. 'Guy has such rich hunting and fecund fields. Not to mention the fairness of the women folk hereabouts.' He laughed at his joke.

'My lord has many wonderful things in his domain,' she smiled agreeably. 'As well as charming friends.'

He poured another glass for himself and moved to the chaise in front of the fire. 'I want you to remove your lovely little chemise and stand by the fire. I am going to drink this glass of champagne while I look at you and think of what to do with you. You will not speak during this time. Just show me your loveliness, that's all I ask to begin with.'

The Duke of Bourbonne took his time over his glass, enjoying every bubble while he savoured every curve of Valentine as she moved to show him her body from all sides. He liked the way the firelight made her white flesh peach and then pink and then amber. He called her to his side. 'Kneel next to me.' He dribbled the dregs of his champagne onto her nipples and taking one and then the other into his mouth sucked her clean of the sweet liquid. He seemed pleased when he pulled his head away from her. 'An excellent start, my dear. Now I want you to lie on the bed. Lie straight and still. I'm sure you know how to do that.'

He took up the scarves and dropped them on her body. 'Feel how soft they are, my dear.' He took one and placing her exquisite ankles side by side loosely bound her legs together. He bound her knees to match her ankles, bringing together her slender thighs and there was that tiny gap he was hoping for at the top of her thighs where her legs met her sex. He sighed with delight, checking that her bonds were not restricting her blood flow but would restrict her movement. Her took her hands and placed them above her head, placing her wrists together and in the same manner bound her arms together, such that her breasts sat up from her chest in a more pleasing manner.

Valentine concentrated on relaxing, on keeping her muscles loose, in not tensing any part of her body. She smiled gently, not tight or forced; an expression of mild content purposefully upon her face. She said nothing as the Duke commanded her, focusing on his face, his cheerfulness in her presence: his pleasure in being with her might be enough to help her through the evening.

'I will save this one for a moment,' he smiled laying the scarf across her belly. Already he could see her nipples were hardening. 'You will watch me undress and when I see that you are pleased with what you see I will bind your eyes. Your pleasure will be enhanced as will mine and you might even share your new skills with your master.'

He undressed carefully placing his refined garments on the arms of the chair. She kept her eyes on his body, keen despite herself to see his manhood, to see how it compared to the marquis. The duke was hairier than the marquis, with thick hair on his chest leading down across his belly to his sex, which was erect and thick as he removed his last shoe. She smiled more warmly, he was a proud man and his manhood was exposed to her, she knew she had to show her appreciation, and with her smile and small sigh she did. 'I would like to touch it,' she said, which was not entirely untrue.

'Ah, my dear, perhaps another time. Now, let me bind your eyes.'

Valentine lay completely still on the bed. Her arms were held loosely above her head, resting on the large pillows. Her legs were close together, she felt slightly alarmed in the darkness, but knew she was meant to. She listened for the duke's footsteps, his breathing to tell her where he was. But nothing. She waited.

Beside the bed, Frederick surveyed his prize, his thick prick in hand, feeling its eager strength. It had been some time since he had been in the presence of such unadorned beauty. Her flesh was firm but soft, the glow of youth still very much in evidence. A year of sinful living with his friend had not diminished the innocent appeal of the girl. He felt like he was taking her for her first time. He moved his hands to caress her body, from cheeks to toes, he ran his thick hands over her body. His penis quivered, ached to be inside her.

She shivered as he moved onto the bed, in fear or anticipation? He could not tell, he did not care. He kissed her roughly and felt her body move towards his. He sucked on her nipples and moved his hand to her pubic hair, where he twirled upon a strand and pulled it gently. She almost moaned. 'I do not want your silence. You must cry out,' he commanded. 'I want to hear you.' He put his hand inside her for a moment to check the rumour and found the gold ring. 'Ah,' he smiled.

Straddling her thighs he mounted her, resting his penis for a moment outside her inviting warmth. He sighed loudly and fell upon her heavily thrusting his thickness into her strongly and forcefully, not allowing any time for Valentine to prepare for him. As commanded she cried out. A moan such as she had never made before ripped through the room shivering the crystals of the chandelier. He pushed into her again and she tried to pull away from him, her bound legs thrashing like the tail of the most wondrous mermaid. But her bound legs and his strong thighs held her close to him. He moved into steady rhythm, feeling her growling beneath him, trying to throw him off but he would not release her until he claimed his prize. Then he could feel it, feel it from her belly, from her lips and tongue imploring him, from her pulling him deeper into her and her explosion of warmth and the slackening of her limbs. He let go, thrusting with all his passion, all his strength as he strove to rip her apart with his desire.

He untied her legs first, letting her thighs fall apart so he could look at her glowing pinkness, her wetness. Then he untied her hands so she could caress him and then freed her eyes so he could look into them and see what he had done. It was exactly as he wanted. He had moved within her and touched in a way the marquis had not. Her open mouth, her pink face, her hand gently stroking his neck all told him he had taken her to a place she had never been.

He kissed her. 'I am so very pleased, my dear. I hope we will meet again before this visit is finished.' He threw the scarves over her as he left. She lay, exhausted for some time, an odd feeling within her, the freedom to cry out had been a great release, but it had not been with the marquis.

She moved to cover herself, taking the Duke's silk scarves in her hands. As she lifted them to her face a small item thudded onto the floor: it was a two carat ruby ring with a circle of diamonds. She put it on her right hand immediately, onto her index finger, admiring its flashes of brilliance in the dying light of the fire.


End file.
